“The tip of the plane’s wing hit a boulder on the edge of Otay Mountain, and it killed everyone on board,” McEntire told Oprah. “When we were notified, Narvel went to our pilot and told him what had happened.”
“When Narvel returned to the hotel room where I was — two or three a.m. — and said one of the planes had crashed, I asked, ‘Are they OK?’ ‘I don’t think so,’ he responded. ‘But you’re not sure?’ I asked. ‘I don’t think so,’ he replied.”
According to McEntire, they were anxious to learn the specifics of the catastrophe.
“Narvel was going room to room with a phone, ringing…” she said, pausing as tears rose. “I’m sorry – it’s been 20 years, but I don’t think it ever stops hurting,” she added. “But, I can see that chamber. Narvel is pacing back and forth.”
Friends like Vince Gill and Dolly Parton offered McEntire their bands to finish the tour, but she declined. For My Broken Heart, her next album was dedicated to the band members she had lost, and it debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Top Country Albums chart, selling four million copies.
On the anniversary of the tragedy, McEntire regularly pays tribute to those who died that day. She used Instagram to commemorate the crash anniversary in 2014. On the 25th anniversary of the tragedy in 2016, she took a memorable trip to San Diego and shared it with admirers on social media.
McEntire wrote, “Today is the 25th anniversary of the plane accident.” “In November last year, I returned to San Diego and took a helicopter to the accident site. I have a feeling they realize how much we miss them. My heartfelt condolences and prayers go out to all the families and friends.”
My Wife Gradually Distanced Herself from My Daughter and Me — Then She Left an Envelope and Disappeared
When my wife began to distance herself from me and our daughter, I was baffled. My story reveals how profound love can sometimes lead to protecting loved ones in unexpected ways. Discover how we navigated through secrets, white lies, and heartbreak to ultimately strengthen our family bond.
There’s a haunting uncertainty in not knowing the full truth, particularly when it involves those closest to you. Let’s go back a bit; I’m Kevin, and Levine and I have shared 15 wonderful years of marriage.
Together, we have an incredible child, Emily, who is still young and in school. My wife and daughter are my world, and I thought we had a perfect family life. Yet, about six months ago, Levine began to withdraw from Emily and me.
Over the months, I watched as my once affectionate wife became increasingly remote. Minor changes in her behavior soon escalated into her avoiding us entirely. Her smiles became rare, and her nights restless.
I often saw her tearful in the bathroom. Whenever I tried to discuss it, she dismissed my concerns with a shaky “I’m fine,” although clearly, she was not. This unspoken tension heavily affected me and our daughter, straining our family dynamic.
“Levine, please talk to me,” I urged one night as I found her gazing out the window, her posture tense.
“I just need some air, Kevin. That’s all,” she whispered, barely audible.
My worry deepened as I approached her. “You’ve been ‘just needing air’ for months. You’re scaring me, baby. You’re scaring Emily.”
She faced me then, her eyes brimming with tears yet unshed. “I can’t, not yet…” she murmured before turning back to the window, leaving me feeling utterly helpless.
Yesterday, after picking Emily up from school, I returned to a strangely quiet home. The morning had started like any other, except Levine didn’t say goodbye. My wife, usually at home, was nowhere to be found.
But on the kitchen table, amidst our usual clutter, lay an ominous envelope with my name in Levine’s handwriting.
With a sinking heart, I opened it, trembling. Inside was her letter, penned in the same shaky hand:
“My dearest husband,
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